


These Games We Play

by slightlyjillian



Series: Numbers Alternates [4]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Espionage, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, romantic meddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-01
Updated: 2010-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-09 20:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stand-Alone AU. In the criminal underworld, Nichol's most desired attribute is his loyalty. But who will he give it to?</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Games We Play

**Author's Note:**

> An alternate take on the Numbers/Gundam Wing mafia universe.

"Hey, I don't think we've met," the young man said with a sunny expression. He offered his hand to shake while letting the other pull back the excessive brown hair that swung across his eyes. "I'm Trowa Barton."

"My name is N-," he swallowed his mistake quickly. "Danya. Danya North." Then he stopped short of accepting the hand gesture after a sudden downward tug on his sleeve. They both glanced over at the sudden appearance of Dorothy Catalonia.

She smiled, tilting her head and saying so that only Nichol could hear, "Good job." Then she accepted Trowa's hand into her own. "Trowa, you're meeting my newest _henchman_," she said with the tones of humor and a shared joke. "Danya worked for my grandfather a few years before the opportunity opened up and I just had to snatch him for my own."

"I see that," Trowa replied, still smiling. Nichol wasn't as certain that the other man's good humor was any more genuine than Dorothy's.

Before allowing him to escort her to the social event, Dorothy had insisted that he introduce himself with a different family name.

"You're not a peer, Nicky," she had explained while fussing over the outfit she'd purchased for him. "So don't worry about impressing anyone. They'll believe whatever I choose to tell them."

Nichol had thought the piece around his neck was too tight. But every time he slipped a finger between to loosen the tie, she slapped his hand away and pushed the material back. He had asked, "Does it have to be so cloak and dagger?"

"Yes."

^^^

"So that's Stefan Mihailov's nephew," Zechs said by means of interrupting the conversation between his sister and the person to which they both had a mutual interest.

Heero Yuy shifted his weight away from them as he looked. His arms stayed crossed. "Number Thirty-Eight. He was of a different generation."

"That's right," Relena said, cheerful to have something to contribute. "He's the one that took down Dekim Barton's, ah, organization."

"Delicately put," Zechs snorted. "Except Mihailov wasn't any kinder to those children than Dekim had been."

"So why is he here?" Relena pouted. "And with Dorothy, nonetheless."

"Dermail," Heero muttered to himself. "He must have designs on our city and started placing his people within our Numbers."

"Did Mihailov have connections to Dorothy's grandfather?" Relena took a dessert as it was offered to her. She bit into it carefully and glanced between the other two who continued to scowl across the almost empty ballroom floor. "Did he?"

^^^

"He's going to have to pick between them one of these days." Duo Maxwell flopped backwards with only the wall to catch him. He turned to look at the dark haired woman next to him.

Hilde shook her head. "Duo, if you want anyone to take your love-sick complaints about Heero Yuy seriously, you're going to have to be more subtle about sneaking out to see your circus girlfriend."

"Who?" he smiled. "Someone was talking about me?"

"I think I'm the only person left who'll still talk with you," Hilde chuckled. "Don't push your luck with me either."

"Want to dance?" He knew he looked good in the suit, but without his _circus girlfriend_ the evening was rather dull. And he wasn't about to bring Catherine into this sort of mess if he could help it.

Hilde accepted, "Only because it's a shame to let this music go to waste."

^^^

Dorothy noticed Duo Maxwell strutting onto the dance floor with some hideous movement that resembled a child's attempt to imitate the propulsion of a train more than anything else. "Finally," she sighed while reaching for Nichol's arm. "If we're dancing they won't expect you to have an actual conversation with them."

He grumbled, "I don't know why you think I can't handle..."

"I know you can't handle these people." She'd put her hand up to cover his mouth. Once he stopped trying to speak, she finished pulling him out for a dance. "Once they see you're under my... part of my... then it'll be different. It won't matter if they figure out who you were."

"I'm not a child," he scowled, but managed to keep up with her in the dance. Next, he stepped to the side, leading her along.

_When had he learned?_ she wondered. She remembered the surly face on the awkward, young boy who shadowed her grandfather. They'd been left to play a silent game of chess while the adults had their conversation. She remembered asking later who he was.

"_He's your grandfather's best weapon_," they had told her.

"_How so?_" she had asked.

"_He's loyal..._"

^^^

"What have you allowed in, sir?" Eleven asked. "Aretha tells me that Dorothy's companion was a reject from our field testing."

Treize Kushrenada leaned back to smile at the hostess who refilled his glass. "Thank you," he said, relaxing into his seat and surveying the room over the brim. He drank deeply while Eleven stared.

"How do you manage the recruits?" Treize countered, while setting down his beverage. "Don't answer me. I know." He lifted a hand to halt any further discussion and continued, "Not everyone's best moment is when he's fifteen and under the gun, shall we say." He watched as a few more couples joined the two pair who were already dancing. "Some flowers take a while to reach the point when they'll blossom, which does not make their beauty and fragrance any less sweet." He smiled at her. "Some might say it's even more lovely."

"Are you saying that our system is inadequate? That we're missing..." Eleven replied coolly, but more flustered than he'd seen her in some time. If only circumstances had been different, he would have pulled her among the other bodies and soothed her with the elegance of dance.

He breathed long and deep. "Do as you have done, my lady. But I think that you'll find our destinies are not as clearly mapped as we may like them to be. One must be ready for the variables."

^^^

The song changed as one of the musicians stepped away from the band. Nichol thought that Dorothy would want to rest, but she pressed closer to him as more people fit onto the floor. He wondered why these people weren't more concerned about a hidden knife being plunged into their back. In this place were more enemies than allies, but they acted as if covered by some universal truce.

This place was not a battleground. At least, he realized, not the conventional sort.

"I would ask to cut in, but I'm certain you'd say no."

Nichol slightly stumbled as the handsome blond man who spoke pushed into the narrow space once occupied by his new employer. _Although,_ he pondered, _Employer might not be the best word for it._

He laughed briefly, when he realized that he wasn't being stolen away but that _Dorothy_ was. Her howl of protest was met by lyrical laughter from the interloper, who was the recently dismissed musician if he recognized the man correctly.

Nichol stepped back to find a drink, but walked headlong into Trowa Barton instead.

"Excuse me." Nichol ran his fingers through his hair and tried to go around.

"No no, I think you misunderstand," Trowa said, moving to intercept. "Our song is just getting started."

"Our song?" Nichol replied, bewildered. Then he glanced between Trowa's lifted hands. "I'm sorry, I think you've got the wrong idea here."

"I don't want just a _handshake_," Trowa leaned in, as if sharing a conspiracy. "I just sent my friend to create this diversion, so let's not waste it. We don't have forever."

"Forever?" Nichol repeated with dumb incredulity. He wasn't certain he followed the conversation.

"No," the other man said, his eyes momentary sad. He took Nichol's hand putting it over his chest. "But I will take _sometimes_ even if you are my enemy."

"Are you insane?" Nichol stammered, not sure he should cause a scene and realizing that Dorothy was right. Without her, he felt incredibly out-of-place.

"Insane?" Trowa spun them around in time to the meter. "Most likely."

^^^

"I hope you enjoy what you started." Iria broached the subject as the limo started to take them home. "Jo is not happy with dealing through the fall out of your strategies."

"Eleven," he kissed her. "Jo would understand the intricacies."

"Mmm," Iria shook her head. "Jo might see why, but she would not appreciate your methods."

"She is too kind," Treize agreed, shifting his arms to hold her more comfortably. "She would let a plant grow as it will, without realizing the value of careful, long planned pruning. My grafting skills will bring a stronger tree."

"Life depends on trusting the gardener." Iria met him in his own metaphor. "I hope we don't have to perform surgery before he causes our entire system to wither. And don't start about how a challenge like this will prove the strong from the unworthy. Those kids are people, not puppets for a sociological experiment."

"Ah, my favorite doctor," he cupped his hand along her face. "In that scenario, I would most definitely leave the medicine to you."


End file.
